


i simply want to be dead

by sappho_irl



Series: the one with violets in her lap [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: And I do mean light, F/F, Light BDSM, Power Dynamics, Trans Female Character, set after 5.0, this was supposed to be quick and dirty and then a character study happened, trans wol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29762745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sappho_irl/pseuds/sappho_irl
Summary: "Will you give me this, Ramiel?" Alisaie says, words echoing with the delicate weight of ceremony. They'd established a formal exchange early on, all whispered oaths and promises in the dark. It gave Ramiel a choice, the one thing she valued above all else that was so routinely taken from her. Where catastrophes and monarchs presumed to own, her chevalier asked, ready to take and willing to be refused."Always." Ramiel says, a long exhale following her surrender. The pressure in her chest goes out with it. There wasn't any room for such a thing in Alisaie's arms. All that remained was a soul deep exhaustion and the knowledge that it could be eased through service. Ramiel feels her ears droop and closes her eyes, saying "whatever is left of me is yours."
Relationships: Alisaie Leveilleur/Warrior of Light
Series: the one with violets in her lap [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2187465
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	i simply want to be dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [treztine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/treztine/gifts).



> 1) this was just supposed to be a quick smutty one shot aaaaaaaa
> 
> 2) this takes place right after the MSQ ends, which puts Alisaie and Ramiel at 21/22 or thereabouts
> 
> 3) the idea for the collar embellishment was cribbed from [Badendchan](/users/Badendchan/)'s excellent Yang/Blake story, over [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29243130)

"I didn't want to come back." Ramiel says, her face buried in the soft waves of Alisaie's loose hair. It's a few days after Amaurot - after the Light and Hades and G'raha Tia - and they haven't left her room in the Pendants since the first night of celebrations. Food's been delivered like clockwork and the Scions are keeping any erstwhile well-wishers away, leaving them to their peace.

Here, Ramiel's peace is in being close to Alisaie, a strong, possessive arm slung over her waist. It keeps the pain at bay, soothing phantom aches that are themselves the echoes of greater wounds. Urianger is to thank for that, keeping her whole while the Scions and G'raha hovered nearby; all of them carrying the trauma of watching Ramiel split apart underneath the Light and yet somehow still strong enough to stand watch, after.

Gods, she doesn't deserve any of it. Any of _them_.

"I know." Alisaie finally says, pushing back into Ramiel with a sigh. Because _of course_ she knows. The warrior's a poor liar on a good day. Halone have mercy when she tries her hand at it after being torn apart by magic and circumstance. Alisaie runs her fingers over Ramiel's scarred knuckles, humming to herself. Then, "I would have dragged you from the depths, if necessary."

"Even if the worst happened? If I'd stopped fighting and given myself to the Light?"

"Ramiel." Alisaie says, and Ramiel flinches to hear her sound so torn by frustration and helplessness. The other woman's words at the amaro launch are engraved on the back of her eyelids, so cutting was her sorrow. Every glance between them from there to Amaurot was haunted by the confession. Alisaie draws a breath and says "there is no fate I would not suffer by your side. Even if the worst happened."

Ramiel whines, curling into Alisaie's back and trembling from the tops of her ears to the tips of her toes. The suggestion of such a thing strikes her deepest fears, loss chasing her on perfect, sinless wings. Ramiel _knows_ she would've been unstoppable as a warden. She suspects the Scions would've become the strongest of eaters below her; a cruel and terrible fate made all the more haunting by Alisaie's admission.

Hound and chevalier, leading one another in a bloody dance to the First's destruction.

"Stop that." Alisaie says, turning herself over to face Ramiel. The motion is smooth and her grip sure, leaving their lips ilms away from each other. It's ridiculous, how something this simple can cut through Ramiel's tumultuous panic. Yet her body's shaking calms, as if it was a beast waiting to be tamed by Alisaie's attention.

The air is heavy between them and Ramiel feels herself pitch forward, back at the edges of Amaurot. There were shadows darker than hers in the abyssal trench where Hades had planted the dreaming city. She could see them through the Light, her failures swimming in the depths and rising up as if to drag her to the crushing bottom. They stopped short every time. Maybe they knew Ramiel was already marching towards her execution.

"I said, _stop that_." Alisaie's voice is steel, sharp and unbending. Ramiel jerks, helpless before a command that plucks at strings wrapped tight around her heart. Alisaie puts one of her hands on the back of Ramiel's neck, squeezing with careful intent. The pressure is grounding, momentary tranquility that lets her drink in Alisaie's words as she says "do you have your collar?"

They stumbled into this dynamic by chance, after Zenos' death and before G'raha's meddling. Ramiel wore a thin iron chain around her neck during the liberation, a gift she'd acquired shortly after arriving in Kugane. Its sturdy weight was comforting, like sharing a cup of tea with Y'shtola or napping with Alisaie after running drills. Ramiel had some inkling of what that meant and ignored it in favor of winning a war. 

Then, during a night of otherwise tentative exploration, Alisaie _tugged_ on the chain, and Ramiel was forever caught.

Back in the now, Ramiel nods, afraid that her voice will waver with selfish want. Alisaie hums and gives her neck another squeeze. Warmth floods Ramiel's body, crashing over what remains of her frigid terror. Already she can feel herself drifting on the tides of Alisaie's care. It usually takes more to conjure up this pleasant fog, to soothe and strip Ramiel of her armor. Fury take it, but at least the Light was useful in that respect.

"Will you give me this, Ramiel?" Alisaie says, words echoing with the delicate weight of ceremony. They'd established a formal exchange early on, all whispered oaths and promises in the dark. It gave Ramiel a choice, the one thing she valued above all else that was so routinely taken from her. Where catastrophes and monarchs presumed to own, her chevalier asked, ready to take and willing to be refused.

"Always." Ramiel says, a long exhale following her surrender. The pressure in her chest goes out with it. There wasn't any room for such a thing in Alisaie's arms. All that remained was a soul deep exhaustion and the knowledge that it could be eased through service. Ramiel feels her ears droop and closes her eyes, saying "whatever is left of me is yours."

"Thank you, pet." Alisaie says, pressing a kiss to Ramiel's forehead. She keeps her mouth there, breath hot as it washes over her hair, and says "we're going to talk about what you think you've lost, eventually. For now, fetch me your collar and _kneel_."

A title, a promise, an order. Each one slams into Ramiel like an arrow, impacts echoing in her ears and rousing a new, welcome tension. There's no confusion anymore. There's no anxiety or fear capable of reaching her through Alisaie's claim. Ramiel feels the revelation consume her, making a meal of her sorrow and leaving a blissful quiet in its place. Her knees shake as she gets out of bed and digs through one of her many bags and satchels.

The collar's simple in form - black leather with red stitching, a soft inner band protecting Ramiel from any chafing during longer sessions and a shiny silver buckle waiting to be threaded and locked. What elevates it, what takes its function and turns _that_ into holy writ, is the design stamped onto the outer band: a stylized spell focus, fit for a red mage and no one else.

Ramiel runs her fingers over the depression, concentrating on the points and angles in relief and seeing the inspiration in her mind's eye; seeing _Alisaie_ holding it aloft as she cut down a thousand foes beside her. Ramiel's always been attracted to strength, but the grace Alisaie wedded it to, the _power_ \- it reduces her to a being of quivering want. Five years they've known one another and she's only become weaker to her allure.

"Ramiel." Alisaie says, turning her name into the tug of a leash and nails drawn down her back. Ramiel shakes her head and takes her place in a hurry: kneeling between Alisaie's open legs, their eyes almost level. In another headspace, Ramiel would tease her about it, ask if her growth was stunted by working herself tirelessly, endlessly, to match the warrior. In this one - this precious moment - she offers Alisaie the collar with shaking hands and is rewarded with a hushed "good girl."

Ramiel sighs, the hardfought happiness brought on by those two words like fire in her blood. She'd seen what her mothers dealt with, being viera in Ul'dah, and married to one another no less. Her years as an adventurer made a test out of those childhood lessons. It didn't matter where she was or who she was with. Someone would always treat Ramiel like a thing to be used. She's been called _exotic_ one too many times and broken too few bones for the insult.

Hearing Alisaie claim her as _good girl_ is something entirely different. Ramiel can see it in the way she smiles into the syllables, near beaming at the end. No matter how serious or stern Alisaie sets out to be, she always ends up treating Ramiel like a treasure; the knight consort in service to her queen protector. Her faithful chevalier.

"You've been run ragged, pet." Alisaie says, scratching at the base of Ramiel's ears and making her moan softly. Scratching turns into petting, sweeping gestures over Ramiel's unruly curls. Alisaie's fingertips tease the nape of her neck and she slumps in place. The world is fast becoming smaller, reduced to the warm bubble of her chevalier's focused attention. Alisaie uses her free hand to take Ramiel's collar and says "if at any point this becomes too much, you will not simply _endure_ it. Am I understood?"

"Yes." Ramiel says, resting her hands in her lap, their task complete. Alisaie nods and traces a line from the base of one of her ears to the curve of her jaw. Ramiel is a lightning rod, alert and alive in each second of contact. She can feel every last ilm of her skin. All of it is starving for Alisaie.

Alisaie takes a long breath, one that Ramiel matches as they both steady themselves in their respective roles, and says "lean forward."

Ramiel obeys, will always obey, could never think of doing otherwise. Her forehead brushes against Alisaie's thin nightgown and it nearly undoes her. Her chevalier's beating heart lies behind that flesh and fabric; the driving force of Alisaie's unceasing loyalty and tireless love. Ramiel can't figure out what she's done to deserve either, to deserve that level of trust and this indulgence and -

"Ramiel." Alisaie says, stroking up one of her ears, "come back to me, dear heart. There is nothing more important than this moment. Not your fear or your doubt. Only you and I."

"Only you and I." Ramiel repeats, nodding and blinking back tears. Alisaie continues to stroke her ear, avoiding a certain section of its length so as to not reduce her to a puddle on the floor. Ramiel lets herself enjoy the sensation, the way Alisaie is careful not to ruffle the hair and avoids touching the oversensitive insides. It's a deceptively complex task to soothe a viera. That Alisaie was and continues to be willing to learn is _everything_.

"Do you want to continue?" Alisaie says, slipping out of command and into concern with the ease of changing clothes. Ramiel smiles and nods. Her chevalier stopped the spiral before it could start in earnest, which leaves her back where she started: hungry and eager to serve. Alisaie gives her hair a tousle and says "where were we, then."

It's not a question. Ramiel _knows_ what those sound like when she's on her knees, chest ripped open and her aching, battered soul on display. But she's desperate to respond. She _needs_ to, needs to let Alisaie know that she's okay. Ramiel fists the threadbare hem of her shift and says "my collar, Ser. Please?"

"None of that right now, my ever loyal hound." Alisaie says, the rebuke softened by her fingers carding through the longer parts Ramiel's hair; the portion she fashions into a long braid each morning before rising to meet her responsibilities. Alisaie cups her cheek, brushing the pad of her thumb over it, and says "when you address me tonight, it will be with my name or not at all. I am going to teach you who it is you belong to. You will know who it is that _loves_ you."

"Gods, I - yes. Yes." Ramiel says, pushing forward until she _can't_ , until she's wrapped her arms around Alisaie's middle and buried her face in her lap. A breach of protocol, if her collar was on, but with her neck bare it's simply a woman overwhelmed by her lover's steadfast determination and faith. After a few minutes, Ramiel feels composed enough to return to her prior position. With yet one more deep breath, she looks up and says "I'm ready, Alisaie."

"I should think so, pet." Alisaie says, the ghost of a smirk on her face. It's wiped away before Ramiel can return it, hidden behind the firm, patient mask of her chevalier. "Now, once more: lean forward."

Ramiel moves without thought, without question, and this time, is rewarded. Alisaie wraps her collar around her throat and secures it with the song of metal kissing metal. A job of not even a minute, finally completed. The effect is instant - Ramiel sighs, quiet and sweet, the leather's presence on her skin akin to a hot bath after a day of grueling work. If she's ever known true peace in her short life, this is it distilled and concentrated.

"There you are." Alisaie says, looking at Ramiel like the people of the Crystarium look at the evening sky. Wondrous disbelief and bone breaking gratitude swim in her eyes, and Ramiel's breath hitches. Alisaie smiles like a dream, like the promise of eternity, and says "stand up, dear heart, and follow me."

Alisaie gets off the bed and leads her to the small vanity in the opposite corner, nightgown fluttering below her knees. Ramiel has a split second to appreciate the way it flows over her chevalier's curves before she's guided to sit in front of the vanity. The chair is backless and the seat cushion plush, conveniences to make spending a bell before the mirror less painful.

"Hand me your brush, pet." Alisaie says, standing behind Ramiel, smiling in that clever, infuriating way of hers. It's the expression that led to their first fight shortly after they met, the warrior incensed by a woman half her size with an attitude that towered over them both. Ramiel shakes off the memory and does as she's asked. The bright satisfaction of following an order quickly settles into her chest. Alisaie makes it shine brighter still with another "good girl."

Ramiel gasps when Alisaie pulls the brush through her hair. The first pass always runs into snags, but that's not what makes her heart beat triple time. It's not what makes Ramiel's cheeks burn as she meets Alisaie's eyes in the mirror. It's that no one has done this for her since her chevalier fell on the Source. _Moons_ passed without the grounding touch of Alisaie's free hand and the brush's hard bristles parting her curls.

Even when Ramiel arrived on the First and reunited with her stolen family, there was rarely time for such frivolities. And with the Light burning its way into her bones, there was even less _want_. Ramiel refused the simplest of touches by the time they'd descended to the bottom of the sea. Her skin felt like it was being cut open in a thousand different places by the excess of aether coiled around her soul.

When Ramiel's eyes fill with tears as Alisaie brushes her hair, she lets herself cry. She reaches for her shoulder and her chevalier spares a hand, the soft hiss of the brush falling silent . They've shared moments exactly like this in bedchambers and hastily pitched tents across every malm of the Source. But to have it _now_ , after almost being unmade and reforged into a calamity, is ecstatic, transformative destruction.

"It's been far too long since we last touched one another like this." Alisaie says, leaning forward to put the brush back on the vanity. Ramiel gasps at the sudden contact, heat and softness and _Alisaie_ overwhelming her senses. Her chevalier smells like violets, like home, and Ramiel wants nothing more than to kiss her. But Alisaie keeps her seated, reaching around to lift Ramiel's chin up, saying "look at yourself, pet. Look at what I can do to you with the simplest touch."

Ramiel looks into the mirror and sees - by the Fury, she sees far too much. She's never had intense dysphoria, but the countless scars that run across her broad shoulders and thick arms are daunting regardless. All of them are evidence of a life of violence and mean survival - of existence as a mere weapon in the hands of those powerful enough to demand its service.

Alisaie chooses this moment to slip two fingers between Ramiel's collar and the back of her neck. The leather tightens on the other side and all thoughts leave her mind. There's only her chevalier, repeating herself, and Ramiel with no choice (no want) but to listen. And finally, she sees a woman shaking in her seat, flushed and short of breath. Wood take her ears, she's _panting_ , as if her heat had come early.

"They forget how mortal you are, Ramiel. How fragile." Alisaie says, letting go of Ramiel's collar and meeting her reflection's eyes. "A consequence, I suspect, of your insistence on acting as if naught but an umbral calamity can stop you. And it led us here, _to you_ caring so little for yourself that you would've accepted death by duty's end."

"By necessity." Ramiel says, quick in her correction and long ago used to the trauma of the implication. She's danced through this argument with Alisaie on the eve of every realm defining battle. Rarely does it go smoothly, and tonight is no exception, her chevalier throwing a new step into the routine. Did she collar her with this in mind or was it merely a happy accident?

"A world that demands your life in exchange for another dawn is a world I will gladly condemn to every hell between here and the Source." Alisaie says, embracing Ramiel around the shoulders. They may as well be back in the bed, an ilm between them and a furious mess of emotion below. "I will not see you fall when it can be helped. I _refuse_ to let go of what is _mine_."

Ramiel whines, high and frustrated in her throat. She knows they're going to have a serious discussion about this later, one that will inevitably become _the_ fight. But that's _later_ , when she isn't drowning in Alisaie's touch and scent. Any patience Ramiel had for conversation deserted her once her collar was pulled. In its place is a squirming need, one that keens under Alisaie's possessive words.

"I have never been in favor of needless sacrifice." Alisaie says, growling into Ramiel's neck, her hot breath only partially blocked by the collar. "It does not become any more attractive an option simply because the _Warrior of Light_ deems it _necessary_."

Norvrandt has taught Ramiel many things, the most important among them the malleability of time. In her mind, it was a few suns between absorbing the first warden's Light and dying above the raging fires of Hades' nightmare. Every bell bled into the next until the only measure that made sense was how her suffering multiplied each time she killed a warden. By contrast, this moment, with Alisaie at her throat and her claws digging into her own legs, is _eternal_.

The tension snaps at the point where the end of Ramiel's self-control meets the beginning of her hunger.

Alisaie gasps as Ramiel surges off her chair, turning around to pick her up only to deposit her back on the vanity. Her chevalier is blushing, hands curled at the edge of the tabletop, looking at her with defiant interest. The furniture puts them eye to eye and it's a privilege Ramiel lets her enjoy for a few precious seconds. Then, growling deep in her chest, she buries her fingers in Alisaie's silken hair and yanks her into a kiss. 

Ramiel's fang and fury are fought against, because loving Alisaie is no easy conquering. Her nails dig into Ramiel's biceps, stinging even as they make her moan into the other woman's mouth. They kiss like it's a battle, Alisaie sinking her teeth into Ramiel's lower lip after Ramiel's fangs whispered along Alisaie's tongue. It drives the viera to the edge, her submission forgotten as she takes a handful of Alisaie's hair and _pulls_ , breaking their embrace.

"I have killed gods and torn down the sky." Ramiel says, surprising herself with how rough - how _feral_ \- her voice sounds. Alisaie's eyes flutter shut and she takes the opening, turning the other woman's head to the side and _biting_ into the meat of her neck. Alisaie cries out, pulling Ramiel closer, arms and legs tight around her body. Ramiel growls into her skin and presses a kiss into the rapidly blooming mark before whispering "who are you to say what I can and cannot do?"

"I'm the one who holds your leash." Alisaie says, only slightly breathless and entirely too smug. Her fingers are tracing the edges of Ramiel's collar, rough from swordplay and clear in their intent. Alisaie pulls on it and Ramiel shivers, letting herself be moved. Not that the other woman _requires_ her help when it comes to shifting her warrior from one place to another. Ramiel's woken up hard and aching more than once from dreams where Alisaie handles her like so much dead weight.

Alisaie hums from her spot underneath Ramiel, smirking as she looks up at her. It's the expression of a predator who knows the hunt is over; of the _real_ conqueror all too ready to claim her prize. She grabs the collar by the O-ring, her other hand petting Ramiel's jawline, slow and sure. Ramiel knows what she's doing, recognizing one of the hundred or so calming techniques Alisaie's developed for her. She's always responded well to touch.

"You're _mine_ , Ramiel. My friend and my warrior and my _heart_." Alisaie says, gaze piercing as it drifts over Ramiel's face. She can feel the way it peels her layers back, sifting through shattered defenses and searching for the vulnerability that hides behind them. "And I will continue to say it in as many ways as I know how until you finally accept that truth."

"Alisaie." Ramiel says, placing her hands on either side of Alisaie's thighs and letting herself fall until their foreheads meet. She's being torn in two directions, her loyalty and her loathing in a bitter fight. Even with arousal humming in Ramiel's veins, it's hard to stop arguing with the idea that she's _worth_ any of the trouble. An ugly part of herself keeps insisting that this is a mistake, a trick that will only leave her in ruins.

"Will you let me give this to you?" Alisaie says, reaching to cradle Ramiel's face in her hands. She's asking for bravery in service of kindness. Ramiel has never had much of either to spare when it comes to her wounded heart. Alisaie drops one hand to her collar, tracing its metal embellishments, and says "you've kept me safe a hundred times over, Ramiel. Trust me to do the same for you. Please."

What else can Ramiel's self-hatred say, when faced with their shared history; the years they've spent swinging axe and blade to defend a world that rarely thanks them for it?

What else is there for a hound to do, when asked so sweetly to obey?

Ramiel nods, hesitant. She tries to hide the weakness by bringing her head up and kissing the tip of Alisaie's nose. It normally gets her swatted at or given a stern reprimand, but this time her only punishment is a half-hearted glare. One which gives way to familiar heat as Alisaie looks her over, lingering on the hem of her shift. Their roles have shifted again, her chevalier stepping back in to examine every ilm of her pet.

"Gods, that's the same shirt I've seen you wear to bed since _we met_." Alisaie says, shaking her head as Ramiel blushes. She fidgets in place and ignores old shame whispering from the dark corners of her mind. It's _Alisaie_. The Fury Herself would sooner descend on them both than the other woman intentionally hurt her. "Take it off, Ramiel. I want to see you properly."

How Alisaie can sound commanding when she's ruffled and perched on furniture, Ramiel will never know. The order is a blessing regardless, quieting the constant scratching of her anxieties and directing her energy to a productive task. Perhaps _too much_ of that energy, a few weak threads tearing under her claws as she yanks the shift off and tosses it to the side. Alisaie looks at where it lands, an eyebrow arched, and must decide better than to lecture her.

Alisaie hops off the vanity and Ramiel can't stop herself from giggling. One day Alisaie is going to lord a handful of ilms over her, so she may as well get her shots in now. Even when they're repaid by a pinch to her naked hip, the strength of Alisaie's fingers making up for her blunt nails. Ramiel squeaks, her hands shooting to the small mark, and she ends up locking eyes with Alisaie - who's stalking her in a slow, deliberate circle. Her chevalier's smile is wicked and her stomach does a backflip.

"You have no idea, do you, Ramiel? The things you make me feel. The things I want to _do_ to you." Alisaie says, stopping in front of her and stepping into her space. Ramiel's barely a fulm and a half taller and it's never felt so insignificant as it does now. Alisaie takes her hands, cradling them between her own, and kisses her knuckles. A sign of benediction and a mark of ownership and an expression of love. Then, "go sit on the bed, pet. Back against the headboard."

Ramiel shivers and knows it's not just because she's naked. Alisaie's suspected plan is one she's eager to follow. By the Fury, this is the most eager she's felt since arriving on this bloody star. Ramiel's knees wobble as she travels the short distance to her bed, crawling into position without a care for anything but haste. Her chevalier _wants_. Her only wish is to _give_.

"Someone's eager." Alisaie says, and the only reason Ramiel doesn't make some form of protest or roll her eyes is because she's suddenly _right there_. Alisaie straddles her thighs like a queen atop her throne, the smug expression from earlier back in full force. The room's lights make her _glow,_ eyes brimming with the kind of satisfaction Ramiel usually sees at the end of a hard fought spar. 

"This would be enough, wouldn't it?" Ramiel says, settling her hands on Alisaie's slim hips. Her chevalier sighs at the touch and tips forward until she's resting her head on her chest, a questioning hum her only response. "Being with me right now. Right here. It would make you happy, even if we didn't do anything else."

"Yes? What are you getting at, Ramiel?" Alisaie says, and her tone is as sharp as her sword; as tart as a freshly harvested lemon. "Should I not enjoy a simple intimacy with you? Having you collared doesn't mean I have to immediately throw you down and _take_ you."

"That wasn't my point." Ramiel says, pressing a kiss into Alisaie's hair. Her chevalier answers with a huff this time, followed by another hum. Ramiel takes a moment to collect her thoughts, distracted every few seconds by Alisaie's fingers playing back and forth on her collarbone; reaching up to tug on her collar's O-ring. But she soldiers through, and says "it's still new. Fury take me, but I keep expecting you to disappear in the night."

"The day was more likely to take me from you here." Alisaie says, which Ramiel chooses to ignore. They're not so far past the worst of the last several moons that she can laugh at a joke about the dangers. A tense silence fills the miniscule gaps between their bodies, a static that scratches raw wounds. Then, "I'm sorry, dear heart. I - it seems we both share that fear."

Ramiel makes a decision, then and there, knowing they've once again found themselves on the edge of a conversation neither are ready for yet. She slides her hands up Alisaie's sides, letting the tips of her claws sink in _just so_ , and earns a surprised moan. The fabric of her chevalier's nightgown catches at several points, even with delicate handling, and it's barely a thought to sink her claws deeper.

The sound of ripping silk is loud when the only thing to accompany it are shallow breaths.

Alisaie cranes her neck to look at Ramiel's efforts - the sides of her gown torn at the seams and each strap suddenly cleaved in two. That it remains on her body is by the grace of the Twelve and little else. Ramiel smiles, and while viera don't _purr_ , her chest does rumble with a bass satisfaction. Her chevalier scoffs and tugs on her collar's O-ring until they're nose to nose; breast to breast.

"That was either the wisest thing you've done all evening, or the biggest mistake of your life." Alisaie says, palming one of Ramiel's breasts and _squeezing_. It makes her gasp and hug her chevalier closer, dragging her claws down the other woman's shoulder blades and delighting in her long, slow hiss. 

"Let me know what you decide." Ramiel says, leaning in and using the small amount of slack it offers her to rub her cheek against Alisaie's. An old scenting instinct, she thinks, and one that she appreciates when she's allowed to continue. Ramiel kisses Alisaie's jaw with a hot, open mouth, sucking on her chevalier's velvet skin when she's not worshiping it with her lips and tongue.

"You are playing - _gods_ \- a dangerous game, pet." Alisaie says, letting go of her collar and grabbing her other breast. Ramiel moans and kisses her throat, careful to keep her fangs from drawing blood. Her delicate work is interrupted by Alisaie taking both of her nipples between her clever fingers and pinching, _hard_. Ramiel rears back and screams, fighting the urge to flip their positions, to have Alisaie flat on her back and _full_ of her cock. "Don't even think about it, hound."

"Now who's playing the dangerous game?" Ramiel says, removing her hands from Alisaie and planting them on the bed. She flexes them into the sheets, her claws slicing through the linens. Alisaie hasn't let go, only relieved the pressure, and Ramiel adds on a petulant " _Ser."_

"Every time I try to show you leniency," Alisaie says, twisting her wrists and making Ramiel moan, high and sharp, "you throw my efforts back in my face. You act like a _brat_. I end up having to _punish_ you. Was this what you wanted all along, pet? My lash, as opposed to my mercy?"

"I want _you_." Ramiel says, and the sincerity in her voice is like a clap of thunder, so heavy is the wake of its passing. Alisaie's mouth hangs open and her hands lay flat against Ramiel's breasts, no longer busy with torment. Ramiel breathes out through her nose, eyes closing on sudden tears, and says "you, Ali. I just want you."

Quiet returns to the room. Ramiel can hear her own heartbeat, can _feel_ it as it thrums beneath her collar. The leather goes from comfortable to unbearable in a second and she reaches to remove it. Alisaie beats her there, pushing her hands away and unbuckling it before she slides the collar off of her neck. She places it beside them, looking as if she's been given a revelation.

"I'm glad you told me, dear heart." Alisaie says, throwing her arms around Ramiel's neck, hands idly toying with her hair. She sighs and shakes her head, says "less glad that my wardrobe was unable to make it out unscathed, however, but I suppose some sacrifices are inevitable after all."

"Shut up." Ramiel says, tearing away the sundered nightgown and kissing Alisaie while she laughs. Skin slides on skin, sending a shock of sensation along Ramiel's nerves, Alisaie's lean muscle a delight where it meets her hard bulk. They have an army of scars between them, thin lines and other raised marks like a code under Ramiel's palms. Her chevalier, as battle hardened as any Warrior of Darkness, real or legend.

Ramiel loses track of time as they trade soft, unhurried kisses. She's the one who parts her lips first. Alisaie is the one to explore past them with a darting tongue. She tugs on Ramiel's hair when she returns the favor. And after a while, they begin to unconsciously rut into one another. It's then that Alisaie's hips roll under Ramiel's hands and a wet heat slides over her cock.

" _Fuck_ , Ali-"

"I know, Ramiel." Alisaie says, voice so steady it sounds like she's taking a lazy walk through the Crystarium. The only sign that this is affecting her just as deeply is the slight hitch in her breath. Ramiel growls and pulls _down_ , pressing her cock against Alisaie's slick folds. It gets her a strangled moan and a harshly whispered "gods, if you don't get on with it and _fuck me_ , I won't be held accountable for my actions."

Despite the threat, it does take some cooperation - Ramiel holding still and watching as Alisaie guides her cock into position before lowering herself onto the head. A long, aching moment passes and then she's slowly being taken inside, her chevalier whimpering with every ilm of it. Ramiel can see the sweat building Alisaie's forehead, the way her hair is slick and sticking, her forearms trembling as she uses Ramiel for support.

Finally - _finally_ \- Alisaie settles on Ramiel's lap, looking up at her with an unsteady smile as if to say _nothing to it._ She shudders and collapses forward when Ramiel wiggles her hips, feeling her chevalier clamp down on the length of her cock. They pass the tremors back and forth, holding one another as they let the pleasure dance its way through them like a lighting strike.

Alisaie recovers first, gently rocking herself back and forth. Ramiel's left helpless as she kisses her, hands buried in the shorter hair on the back of her neck. The only thing she's able to do is grab Alisaie's thighs, grounding herself with the muscle shifting beneath her chevalier's skin. 

"I love you, you ridiculous woman." Alisaie says between kisses, embellishing each word with her lips and ending the statement with her teeth. Ramiel's sure her own lips are going to be swollen for several bells after this. Alisiae raises her pelvis up and slams it down, a short fall that has Ramiel seeing white. "You, Ramiel. Only you, always you, _just you_."

Ramiel fumbles her words and instead thrusts to meet Alisaie as she lifts herself up once more. The sound that occurs is obscene, a wet slap that makes Ramiel hungry to hear it again and again. She's never been a gifted speaker, but this? Oh, this she can do. It takes a few seconds and it makes Alisaie squawk, but Ramiel flips their positions. Her chevalier is on her back, looking up at her warrior, and it's every bit as intoxicating as Ramiel hoped.

Alisaie opens her mouth to protest, to question, to do anything but what happens: moan, loudly, wantonly, _helplessly,_ as Ramiel fucks her. Who, for her part, is happy to listen as she repeatedly sinks her cock into Alisaie's soaked, silken grip. Ramiel buries her face in the side of her chevalier's neck and _listens_ , drinking in every gasp and cry. Maybe if she collects enough of them, they'll push out every nightmare still haunting her mind.

"Gods, Ramiel." Alisaie says, stretching her name into three lilting, delirious sounds. It's a sweeter song than she's ever heard before, one Alisaie can't stop repeating. Ramiel adds a verse of her own, mouthing her chevalier's name into her throat, into the almost endless strands of hair that are gathering in loose tangles. Alisaie near shakes apart in response, babbling "foolish, brilliant, _perfect_."

"I love you too." Ramiel says, lifting herself to grin down at Alisaie. It's an unsteady thing and she can feel her orgasm building, brought on by the fact that not even desire can beat a hero's exhaustion. Would that she could watch Alisaie come apart like this for a bell. For the moment, Ramiel watches her blush and whine as she murmurs "my faithful chevalier."

"Oh you have _got_ to be jok-" Alisaie says, interrupting herself as she comes right then and there. Ramiel is dumbstruck, stopped mid stroke, trying and failing to process what's happening. Her body catches up before her brain, Alisaie's convulsions taking her last bit of stamina and snapping it over their knee. It'd be embarrassing if not for the distraction of her chevalier's pleasure.

Alisaie undone is Alisaie without her habitual armor; her instinctive reaction to snap and scoff and snarl. Her eyes have gone wide and Ramiel swears she can see the night sky in their glossy sheen. Her chevalier's been turned into a mirror, unfolded and laid out flat, reflecting every scrap of desperate love she's just been given. Her limbs are locked around Ramiel, as if she doesn't know there's nowhere else her warrior would rather be.

"Fury take me, but you're gorgeous." Ramiel says, brushing Alisaie's cheek with the backs of her knuckles. There's no response save for a weak snort, the other woman still in the grips of aftershocks. Ramiel loves those as much as she hates them. She needs to keep her full weight off of Alisaie, a task made nearly impossible by the fact that her cock's being damn near _milked_ by her chevalier.

And Halone only knows how she's managing coherent thought in the middle of _that._

"Far be it from me to question your faith, but what does your goddess have to do with _any_ of this?" Alisaie says, sounding more composed than any freshly fucked woman should. Ramiel feels her pride take a small hit, which Alisaie notices, because she laughs breathlessly and says "don't worry, my warrior. You've left me well and truly satisfied."

"I'd believe that more strongly if you hadn't _giggled_ beforehand, Ali." Ramiel says, taking a chance and blowing a raspberry on Alisaie's exposed neck. She shrieks, smacking her on the back, and then they both suffer when the next aftershock rolls through. Ramiel bites back a curse as the warm, gentle fire consumes her insides, and says "you're going to be the bloody death of me."

"It's the only way I'll allow you to suffer one." Alisaie says, yawning even as she turns a serious look on Ramiel's face. The tension in her brow is gone, shoulders relaxed and mouth turned up at the corners. But even with all that, Ramiel knows there are a score of worries dancing behind her eyes. "You can't distract me from difficult conversations with this method every time, you know."

Ramiel doesn't bother trying to lie. "I won't. But we need to heal. _I_ need to heal."

"And I will give you as much time to do so as I'm able." Alisaie says, wrapping her arms around her neck and pulling her down. Ramiel makes another decision, flipping them back over, Alisaie collapsing onto her front. "Gods, would you _ask_ before you do that next time!"

"Takes too long. You get cranky if you can't rest after a good orgasm." Ramiel says, and she knows she's not being subtle. It's another deflection, another attempt to bait Alisaie away from something serious. That it works is thanks to the other woman's patience and understanding, not any great subterfuge on her part. Ramiel sighs and pets Alisaie's hair, saying "just a little bit more time."

Alisaie relaxes against her before she says "you've won us all at least that much, my heart. I'll stand beside you once you're ready, as always. Even if the worst comes. _Especially_ if the worst comes."

Ramiel holds tight to those words, past the point where Alisaie falls asleep; beyond the moment where she slips into her own dreams. And when the Light bursts from her body like a second flood, Alisaie is there to drown with her, never letting go.


End file.
